Day 14: Four Mile Bridge to Trearddur
Backing down the estuary
Technically, it was not an estuary, which is where a freshwater river flows into saltwater. It was a maritime channel, a kind of strait, that separates an island from the continent. But it looked like an estuary, because it had a strong current and because yesterday we had to walk kilometers inland to pass it. And today we had to walk in the opposite direction to get back to the coast.
We started back at Four Mile Bridge. Like the last few mornings, the tide was high. Fortunately, most of the trail along the strait was out of the water and the rest was elevated on long stretches of plank walkway. Once we left the tidal zone, we walked through pastures and farm trails. We also emerged from the gray morning clouds into the sun.
The Hormoos Gate
We had followed a narrow, winding country road for about a mile when it seemed to end at a farm. The Coast Path sign pointed to a dirt road (side yard? Parking lot?) next to the farm, but the road was blocked by a large front-end loader with the engine running, bucket raised, and no one in sight except a large herd of cows behind another gate.
I pulled out my Coast Path app to check that this was our path, when the farmer and his helper appeared. The farmer showed us the way to the front loader, where his assistant was opening a steel tube door for us. Then he said: “It will be 10 pounds toll, right?”
We look at it. He was serious. But his assistant was smiling, so I replied, «No problem. The rest of our team is about a mile behind us and they have all of our cash. They’ll pay for all of us when they get here.» Then he smiled and let us into his cow pasture.
He was joking, of course, but I wondered if there wasn’t a bit of resentment at having to give way to a trail that ran through his side yard and cow pasture, while the trail wound for miles around the wealthiest properties.
Back to the beach
After dodging the herd of cows and their numerous byproducts, we finally returned to the coast. We had walked just over an hour from the Four Mile Bridge when we crossed a line of grassy dunes and finally saw the waves. We turned right and walked through the wet sand along a long, narrow beach.
I like walking on the beach, especially on a cold morning, in the sun and wind, and if the sand is hard. And even more so when, at the end of the beach, I see a beach bar open with tea, cold drinks and snacks. Just in time for a morning break.
As we walked, Kate asked, «Isn’t that our little friend from yesterday?» I looked, but this lady was wearing shorts, no hat, and most importantly, she was barefoot. Definitely not a hiker. She smiled at us, so we smiled back, but Picnic chose a picnic table on the other side of the clearing.
Before finishing our break, I saw the lady pass by. Wear hiking boots and carry trekking poles. Oh. He had snubbed her again. We are not meant to be friends.
Steep cliffs and coves
The next section of the coast was made up of cliff-top grasslands above crashing waves with unobstructed views of the blue-green ocean to infinity. I’ll let the pictures do the talking because I’ve run out of new words to describe it. But I will never get tired of looking.
We stopped at a hilltop Coast Guard watch station to gaze out to sea with the officers on duty, sharing our lunch with a cheeky pigeon and the lively sea breeze. Each one took his part.
Two sailboats turned slowly back to Rhosneigr. Closer to shore, a group of kayakers paddled in a group, stopping frequently to talk or do some form of training.
Which was our favorite? The old stone lighthouse on a small rocky island? Epic clouds and sky? Acres of flowering gorse? Polished rock outcrops? Are deep coastal crevices too narrow to see the bottom? Bright flowers hanging from old stone walls? A sign warning us of the (invisible) “Caution Goats”?
Or maybe it was finally catching up with our little friend, apologizing for not having recognized her yesterday afternoon or this morning. And chatting with her about our walks. It seems we are on the same itinerary, so it is likely that we will cross paths again. But since she didn’t give us her name, we called her OLF, our new friend.
Trearddur
Or perhaps the panoramic view of the beach houses around Trearddur, our destination for the night.
In no hurry to finish our walk, we wandered around, stopping to watch lambs, boats and clouds until we reached the outskirts of Treaddur. Then we realized that if we hurried a little, we could catch the last portion of the Sunday «roast» at our motel.
We did it. And it was delicious.
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